Homecoming
by Jestana
Summary: Minerva McGonagall returns to Hogwarts from St. Mungo's and reports to her boss, Albus Dumbledore.


Homecoming  
  
A/N: This popped into my head and wouldn't let me be until I wrote it. I spoke to a couple people about it, but I forget who. *blush* They'll know who they are and thank them for their support.  
  
Minerva McGonagall knocked briskly on the door to the Headmaster's office. It opened silently and, leaning heavily on the walking stick in her left hand, she entered. "Albus?"  
  
The blue eyes that met her dark green ones had lost their twinkle. He looked very sad and very tired. "Good afternoon, Minerva."  
  
She moved as quickly as she could to his side. "Albus, what is it? What's wrong?"  
  
He sighed wearily. "I talked with Harry, Minerva."  
  
"And?" Minerva prompted when he fell silent. "What happened?"  
  
"He didn't take the news very well, nor the death of his godfather," Albus finally admitted.  
  
Minerva blinked. "Sirius is dead?"  
  
The bright blue eyes widened as he realized what he'd said. "I'm sorry, Minerva, I would not have told you in such a manner if I could help it."  
  
She waved his apology away. "It's alright, Albus," she gulped back a sob, "I'll be fi--"  
  
The last word was lost as the sob wrenched itself from her throat. Albus stood quickly and gathered her into a comforting embrace. Sirius was dead? The handsome boy who'd hidden so much pain and strife behind a happy-go- lucky façade; who'd breezed through school without any care; the man who had been thrilled with the birth of baby Harry; the godfather who had doted on his godson; the hard, bitter man who had spent two years on the run from the Ministry; he was dead? He couldn't be dead. Albus wouldn't say such a thing if it wasn't true, though. She shook with the force of her sobs as she cried for both the haunted man and the rebellious boy. For five brief years, Sirius had been happy. Then his world had come crashing down around him, and he'd never been the same again. She clutched Albus' robes in her fists, helpless to stem the tears spilling down her cheeks. She was vaguely aware of a long hand rubbing her back in soothing circles, the deep voice she loved so much murmuring in her ear, the warm hand cupping the back of her head. "Oh, Albus, Harry must have been heartbroken."  
  
"Indeed, he was, Minerva," Albus murmured softly, still rubbing her back. "He broke some of my instruments."  
  
Minerva pulled back, her face still wet with tears. "That must have hurt you, so much."  
  
He closed his eyes, but not before she saw the pain deep within them. "I should have told him about the prophecy sooner, Minerva. I should have explained why I wanted him to take Occlumency lessons. I shouldn't have ignored him."  
  
She cupped his face between her hands, her walking stick forgotten on the floor. "Albus, listen to me. It's not your fault. I don't know why or how Sirius died, but I know it would not have been for some foolish reason. He was always rather headstrong, but he fought for what he believed in, and his death is no one's fault, but his own. He knew what he was risking, and he took that risk anyway."  
  
He opened his eyes and the pain and sadness in their depths tore at her heart. "You are right, my dear Professor. I only wish I could take the blame. I should have at least explained to Harry why Voldemort wants him dead."  
  
She sighed and, dropping her hands, looked down at the floor between them. "I will admit that you waited a bit long to tell him, but," she raised her head to meet his eyes with her own, "what's done is done and we cannot change it." He dropped his gaze and she gently tilted his head up. "Albus, please don't do this to yourself. Hogwarts needs you to be strong and you cannot be strong if you are beating yourself up over a mistake you have no chance of correcting. You need to be strong."  
  
His eyes were sad when he finally looked at her once more. "I'm not sure I _can_ be strong, Minerva. I feel so weak."  
  
She bit her lip, debating whether or not to do what she wanted to. "Albus, we could never be strong on our own all the time. I have learned this over the years and have often leaned on you when I felt I could not be strong on my own. I am here for you now, if you find you cannot be strong on your own."  
  
As he stared at her, she bit her lip again, wondering if she'd said too much, if she had revealed too much. Finally, he spoke, slowly, as if he was fumbling for the words. "I have...often depended on you, Minerva. When I find...myself faltering, I...turn to you. You are, indeed, your namesake: Minerva, the goddess of wisdom and understanding."  
  
She blushed and looked away. "You give me too much credit, Albus. I am not what you say I am."  
  
She shivered when his hand cupped her cheek and turned her face to his. "You are, Minerva. You have been my dearest friend and I often find myself thinking of you when I have no one else to turn to."  
  
Her breath caught in her throat. "And you are _my_ dearest friend, Albus. I would not be here today if it were not for you." She bit her lip, wondering once again if she'd said too much.  
  
He had never dropped his hand and now the pad of his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, sending shivers up and down her spine. "Are you cold?"  
  
She stared at him. "What? Why do you ask?"  
  
"You keep shivering," he pointed out quietly, his thumb still moving over her cheekbone. "So I wondered if you were cold."  
  
She shook her head, dislodging his hand and it fell to his side. "I'm not cold, Albus."  
  
"Then why are you shivering?" he asked, his voice soft.  
  
She debated her next move for several heartbeats before tilting her head up and pressing her lips to his. At first, he didn't respond at all, but then he made a sound in the back of his throat and drew her close, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, winding her arms around his neck. When he pulled away, she made a sound of protest.  
  
As they stared into each other's eyes, both trying to catch their breath, they were distracted by the sound of applause and cheering. Puzzled, they looked around and Minerva felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. The portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses were cheering and applauding. Minerva looked back at Albus and was surprised to see him blushing as well. "Albus?"  
  
He smiled tenderly at her. "It would appear that we're the last to realize how much we mean to each other."  
  
She sighed and rested her forehead on his beard. "I've known for a long time that you are more to me than a colleague, or even a friend, Albus."  
  
He tilted her head up so her eyes met his. "How long, Minerva?"  
  
A distant look appeared in her eyes and she looked back across the years. "Since my seventh year, when I was Head Girl."  
  
He stared down at her. "That long?"  
  
She blinked and her gaze focused on him. "Yes, that long."  
  
He cradled her face between his hands. "Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "I didn't want to risk losing your friendship. And, if I couldn't have your love," she opened her eyes so she could look into his, "I would be content with your friendship."  
  
"Oh, Minerva." He pulled her to him for another kiss, this one more passionate and intense than the last. 


End file.
